I've Been Waiting Far Too Long
by xkissmeyoufoolx
Summary: Draco is finding the pressure of his Father's expectations too much to handle. When this troubled world seems to be against him, who can he turn to? (HarryDraco Slasherific!)
1. Too Much

Warning: This is a slash fiction involving the pairing of Harry and Draco. If you don't go for that, don't read.  
  
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They all belong to that wonderful author J.K. Rowling. I'm jealous.  
  
Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction here, so please be gentle. *Smiles* And I would love if you could read and review. (  
  
Enjoy...  
  
~~~~  
  
"F-Father...I..." A stuttering Draco Malfoy crouched helplessly in the corner of the Slytherin Common Room, his long, pale fingers clutching his wand tightly to stop the long piece of divine wood from slipping from his trembling grasp. A small drop of blood trickled down his chin from where he was biting down on his lip to stop from crying out in pain. A dark green aura was surrounding Draco's submitted position on his knees, radiating from a wand pointing in his direction. It slowly disappeared, leaving the sixteen year old Slytherin gasping for breath.  
  
"Get to your feet, Draco." The harsh, whispered words escaped through barely-parting cold lips, veiling a certain malice that triggered something in Draco's subconscious that made him, out of reflex, obey. Slowly, the slim, silver haired boy rose, his legs threatening to give way at any given moment. As his face rose to meet Lucius Malfoy's metal eyes, mirroring his own. They were not unlike each other. The same silvery blond hair, the same eyes. However the younger Malfoy did not posses the same sharp, cruel features of his father. Instead, Draco had inherited the beautiful features of his Mother – a perfectly sculptured jaw line, soft, magnificent features rarely seen. However, that steely glare boring into him at that very moment...Draco looked away. His eyes which once had the potential to become just like those ones...now broken grey.  
  
One pale hand reached up, coming to the side of Draco's perfect face, making him flinch. A cruel smile etched its way along Lucius' lips at the sight of his cowering son. His hand, still suspended in the air next to Draco's face, rose and swept away a few soft strands of light hair falling in front of his son's eyes before letting his hand linger at his forehead. Draco swallowed, feeling his aching body be overcome with a terrible chill that made his bones feel like ice. Fear was all he could feel now. His mind went blank. Numb. Everything was black, except for the potent man in front of him.  
  
Staring at Draco, all emotion drained from his face. No amusement sparked his dangerous face. No love or compassion flicked in the swirls of thunderous grey. Nothing. In a barely audible whisper, Lucius' lips parted as he breathed, "The Dark Lord expects more than this. You know your place. And you will take that place. Mark my words, Draco." And with that, Draco felt Lucius' cold hand grab his neck throwing him back against the wall behind him with a thud. His lithe body slid down the dark green wall until he was on the floor, his head feeling like a lead weight had landed on it. Opening his eyes, he caught one last glimpse of his father exiting the Slytherin Common Room, leaving behind a cold wind that ruffled Draco's hair. Dragging his legs up until his knees were against his chest, Draco wrapped his slim arms around his shins, feeling a lump rise in his elegant throat as tears sprang to his pained eyes, sobs taking over his delicate frame.  
  
After what seemed like mere minutes, but in reality was over an hour, Draco pulled himself to his feet and made his way to his dorm, trying to stifle the sniffs emitting from his body. He saw the dark shapes of his fellow Slytherin's in their beds; they were fast asleep. It wouldn't have troubled them anyway. Crabbe and Goyle knew Lucius was having one of his little 'talks' with Draco that night. It was nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was the strength in which Draco possessed. Getting into bed, Draco curled himself into a small ball, his right hand feeling its way along his stomach. A sudden pain made him bite down hard, the gash reopening in his lip as droplets of blood leaked onto his pillow. His eyes began to shut as visions began to form in his mind. Of his childhood, or lack of. Of what had happened merely an hour ago. Pushing his face into his pillow, he cried silently until sleep came over him, nightmares that stir beneath the surface coming alive.  
  
************************************  
  
"Harry! Harry wake up! We're late!"  
  
The blurred figure of Ron Weasley bobbed energetically in front of Harry as his eyes opened, an immediate reaction taking control as he reached for his glasses and placed them on. He could see Ron perfectly now. Everything became sharper, more defined.  
  
Suddenly what Ron was saying began to sink in. Harry groaned as he kicked off his sheets and ran to find his uniform, throwing on the wrinkly unwashed clothes quickly and running a hand through his messy, black hair. That was good enough. Looking around their dorm, Harry yelled in frustration, "Where's my bloody bag?" Ron jumped over Harry's bed, throwing his school bag back to its owner. "Hurry, we might be able to get a little bit of breakfast before Potions."  
  
As they ran down the stone corridor, Harry wiped sleep from the corners of his eyes, "How could you let us sleep in again, Ron?"  
  
Ron looked abashed, "Me?! I didn't see you try an' get us up last week when we were late! Remember ol' McGonegal's face when we walked in ten minutes late?" Harry shuddered.  
  
The Great Hall was emptying by the time they got there. Quickly heading for the Gryffindor table, Ron proceeded to attempt to shove as many pieces of toast in his mouth as he could. Hermoine stood, shutting her Transfiguration book and glared at the two of them. "I thought you two wanted to get in some study this morning," She said in annoyance, walking past the two. "Thorry...shlept 'im." Ron said through a mouthful of toast, crumbs falling onto his collar. Hermione rolled her eyes and headed for the doors. "Well, I hope you two are ready for Potions, at least. Snape seems to be worse than ever, since Lucius Malfoy has been hanging around Hogwarts." At this, Harry turned to the Professor's table, his bright green eyes landing on the man sitting in the middle as his stomach dropped. He had temporarily forgotten Lucius Malfoy had been turning up at Hogwarts.  
  
"Why is that wanker here anyway?" Harry turned at the sound of the voice, seeing Seamus Finnigan standing next to him. "Something about having a talk with Dumbledore." Harry said with a dark look. Ron joined him at his other side, pushing Harry towards the doors with Seamus following, "That can't mean anything good. He's probably demanding his dear son and the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch Team have better broomsticks...if that's possible."  
  
************************************  
  
As Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down at their seats in the Potions room, Snape immediately pulled out one of his large, ancient books, reading out the description of a particularly difficult sleeping potion. "Work in pairs, I expect a sample of your potion on my desk at the end of the class," Snape's dark eyes scanned the room, looking suspiciously at Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors. "The ingredients are on the board. Begin." The shuffle of students grabbing for ingredients and moving chairs filled the room as everyone began, no one wanting to make a mistake for fear of the consequences.  
  
After an hour or so, Harry and Ron stood either side of their cauldron, looking down at it with satisfaction, Harry stirring the silver liquid within carefully. "Gimme a turn!" Ron said, taking the handle from Harry, who was more than happy to have a break. He bent over his book, his finger running down the paragraph that described what the potion was meant to look like. It sounds like we did it right. Harry thought happily. Now that his mind had slowed down and was not filled with the concern of their potion, Harry looked up, his green eyes settling on Draco Malfoy suspiciously. Why hasn't he given us any trouble? His eyebrows furrowed, Harry stared at the blonde's back, wondering if Draco was planning anything to catch them off guard. Eejit.  
  
However, Draco didn't look like he was planning anything. In fact, Draco didn't look like anything he usually did. Usually standing with confidence, finding any opportunity to annoy Harry or Ron, or boasting to his fellow Slytherin's about anything and everything. Instead, as Harry stared at him, Draco stood against the side wall, stirring his cauldron slowly, his head looking down so his silvery hair cascaded over his eyes. For a moment, Harry wanted to go and see what was wrong...  
  
"Harry!" Snapping his head up to Ron, Harry shook himself, trying to look normal. "W-what..." Ron looked puzzled as he stared at Harry, "Class is nearly finished. Lets give our sample to Snape so we can get out of here." Harry nodded in agreement, swallowing hard and forcing himself to keep his eyes away from the Slytherin side of the classroom.  
  
Placing their full glass container onto Snape's table with everyone else, Harry smiled and turned around, drawing in a sharp breath as he faced a pair of grey eyes. Stepping back, Harry glared at Malfoy, waiting for the usual entourage of insults to come forth. However, Draco just looked at him, and Harry was actually shocked by what he saw. Draco's usually perfect face now had dark rings around his eyes...dead eyes. Harry had never realised it before. The eyes – two silver pools of surprising death. Harry had never seen such sadness.  
  
Then, it all ended. Draco merely stared at Harry before turning away and placing his glass on Snape's table. Shaking himself, Harry returned to his table, collected his things and left with Ron and Hermione.  
  
The rest of the day past slowly, Harry's thoughts always drifting back to the Potions room. Numerous times Harry would shake himself out of shameful thoughts.  
  
It's just Malfoy! I don't care what is wrong with him... 


	2. Broken semaphore

Warning: This is a slash fiction involving the pairing of Harry and Draco. If you don't go for that, don't read.  
  
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They all belong to that wonderful author J.K. Rowling. I'm jealous.  
  
Author's Note: Sorry it took so long for me to update! Scouts honour it won't happen again.  
  
Enjoy...  
  
Draco hunched his body as he sat on the ground in his dorm, his forehead leaning against his palms, elbows on his knees. 'What is wrong with me? Am I so weak I can't get through this? And...And him. Why won't he get out of my head?' Draco screamed in his mind, images of him appearing behind closed eyelids.  
  
Draco felt both frightened and disgusted at his newly discovered 'feelings' for Harry Potter, the incessant idea of what his father would do should he find out never straying far from his mind. His stomach gave a violent lurch as he visualised his father's penetrating eyes that mirrored his own, filled with the promise of consequence that Draco could not even comprehend.  
  
Draco looked down at his bare arms; red slits scattered and stitched on his pale, thin arms. Draco had given up looking for help, or for looking for someone to reach out to. His cries for help were silenced years ago, when he realised no one was there to give it. His semaphore for help was broken.  
  
Draco's eyes snapped open. Struggling to his feet, he stumbled into the bathroom and collapsed against the sink, the only thing keeping him vertical were his trembling pale hands grasping the counter as he looked in the mirror. Broken silver eyes stared back at him, seemingly endless despair and loneliness enclosed within. His eyes were sunken, dark rings circling them. His flawless skin was white and pasty for lack of nutrition, tendrils of soft, white blonde hair sticking to his forehead. One hand slowly came up and touched his soft cheek, his eyes glistening with a veneer of tears. What had happened to him in the past few years? He had once been so proud and confident; the perfect Slytherin. Now Draco felt like a mere shadow of himself. An empty shell so lost and confused he felt like a personification of those feelings.  
  
A second later, he was bent over, his stomach lurching as he threw up everything he had eaten the last two days. His knuckles turned white as he gripped with astonishing force to the counter. His skinny, frail, white body trembled viciously as the jerking in his toned chest and stomach subsided and he straightened up slowly, his dark eyes returning to gaze at himself once again. His coral lips were parted, his chest heaving as his breathing slowly decreased, strands of silk hair falling limp over his eyes filled with hatred at who he was looking at.  
  
Himself.  
  
"Really, Ron!" Hermione said crossly as she, Ron and Harry walked towards the Great Hall for breakfast that Saturday morning, as Ron and Harry laughed and remembered the evening before at dinner, when Professor Trelawny began screeching in her seat as Hagrid failed to see her and sat down on top of her. Although Hermione was not the greatest fan of the Divination Professor, she found no humour in laughing at their expense.  
  
"We're just taking the mickey, Hermione." Ron said, ignoring Hermione's scoff in reply as he turned the corner which led into the Great Hall, Harry and Hermione following. Sitting down across from the two, Harry picked up a slice of toast and began buttering it, his eyes wandering up to Ron and Hermione who were arguing over Ron's study routine. Harry merely rolled his eyes and ate his toast, idly listening to the Quidditch conversation between Seamus and Neville.  
  
The murmur and chatter in the Great Hall was oddly gentle, and soon Harry became aware of it. Usually the majority of the noise would occur at the Slytherin Table, particularly at the same cluster of students which would assemble around a certain blonde haired boy named Draco Malfoy. Harry's startling green eyes wandered over to where Draco and his assortment of followers would normally sit, and found merely a quietly scattered number, with no sign of Malfoy, despite the fact Crabbe and Goyle were there. Harry raised an eyebrow, dimly wondering where Malfoy was. 'Stupid git is probably doing his hair,' Thought Harry, drumming his fingers against the polished wood of the table as his thoughts drifted back to the previous day in Potions when he came face to face with Draco Malfoy and had been surprised at the silent nature of him – a startling contrast to his usual personality.  
  
"What you looking at, Harry?" Ron queried, following his gaze over to the Slytherin table. Harry shook himself back, answering quickly, "Hm? Oh, I was just wondering where Malfoy was. His cronies look a little lost." Harry added the last part with a chuckle, placing the last of his toast into his mouth. Ron glowered, "Probably doing his hair." Harry laughed to himself, not bothering to point out to Ron he had thought the same.  
  
It was then did Draco Malfoy walk through the monstrous doors of the Great Hall. "Look who it is." Mumbled Ron, his brown eyes narrowing and Harry now followed his gaze, scowling as he saw Draco coming in through the doors, a listless, uncaring expression plastered on his face. However, Harry looked at him again, and raised an eyebrow. "Ron...Was Malfoy always that thin?" It was then did Hermione look up from her Defence Against the Dark Arts book and join in their conversation.  
  
Shutting the oversized book, Hermione looked at Malfoy as he slowly walked towards the Slytherin table. "No. He has seemed to be getting quite thin lately. His parents must have stopped sending him all those sweets." Sniffing, Hermione turned back to the two boys, picking up her goblet and drinking the last of her orange juice. "Well, I'm off. Ron, you really need to finish your Potions essay. I daresay you will need today and tomorrow, since you haven't started it at all and its due Monday." Ron rolled his eyes, groaned and followed a brisk Hermione grudgingly, waving goodbye to Harry. "See you up there, mate?" Harry nodded, watching them both leave. There was not many in the Great Hall anymore, many students either returning to their common rooms to study or enjoy their free-time.  
  
Harry once again looked at Draco Malfoy, who was sitting alone at the Slytherin table, his skinny frame curled inwards as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible, his blonde head tilting down towards his bowl of porridge, wisps of his hair shielding his eyes. Harry began drumming his fingers against the table once again, trying to figure out why Malfoy was acting so...Un-Malfoy-ish.  
  
Draco swirled his spoon around his bowl, watching the blobby porridge separate and mould into each other, but not seeing it. He was lost in thought; shooting pains in his stomach were the only things keeping him in the Great Hall. He could feel the penetrating eyes on him; 'His eyes. Always filled with malice towards me.' Draco swallowed, remembering the day before when he bumped into Harry in Potions. Draco could see the expectation in Harry's face, waiting for Draco to make some sort of snide comment; Waiting for Draco to act like his father's puppet as he had always done; Waiting for Draco to waltz to his father's demands. In return, Draco had slowly become more and more depressed. Both emotional and physical wounds covered him, both caused by his father and self-inflicted. He no longer believed he could be saved, therefore he never said a word.  
  
'Not anymore. I can't keep going like this. I can't...I can't...' Draco squeezed his eyes shut. How could he have let his Father destroy everything he loved? To take away everything that made him happy or held the potential to make him happy? Now all Draco could feel was a gaping hole inside of him, threatening to turn inside-out and swallow him completely, leaving nothing but despair. 


	3. Cold on a WellLit Stage

Warning: This is a slash fiction involving the pairing of Harry and Draco. If you don't go for that, don't read.  
  
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They all belong to that wonderful author J.K. Rowling. I'm jealous.  
  
Author's Note: See? I'm updating! Yaaay! I forgot how much I loved this story! Thankyou to everyone who reviewed, I can honestly say they were what made me keep updating, knowing people appreciated it. And 'pixy stixs' – thankyou! I promise I won't leave it as much as I did.  
  
Enjoy...  
  
xXx  
  
Saturday came and went, and before the students of Hogwarts knew it, it was Sunday evening. The once warm and comfortable weather (that wasn't expected during the early winter season) leaving and being replaced with grumbling black clouds rolling across the light blue sky as the sun sank into the darkening lake. Droplets of cold rain fell to the dampening ground, slowly getting heavier and heavier, the sound of the rain on the ground reaching a crescendo as students ran from the grounds into the castle. However there was one person who was not sprinting for the sanctuary of Hogwarts. One lone, dark figure stayed where he was, sitting on a bench in the gardens. From a distance, the figure was merely a silhouette, no detail or features forming, just a flat surface of black. This was, in fact, just how Draco Malfoy felt, as he sat there on that bench, rain streaming down from the sky. Black. With no detail or features. He felt utterly numb, devoid of specific characteristics that set him apart. As far as Draco was concerned, he was merely a shadow of the torment and anguish he had succumbed to as a child.  
  
To anyone around Draco, they would not realise he was crying. He loathed crying – always had. Although that was a legacy of his father's doing. Draco's cries for help as a child only led to more beatings. 'Tough Love' was what his father called it, however Draco had never heard his father tell him he loved him before. Not even at a toddler's age. It was just something Lucius Malfoy never did, and Draco Malfoy, his only son, never expected it of him either. So it goes.  
  
Draco's soft white blonde hair (now slightly darker due to the water) hung around his face, heavy with rain, which was coursing down his perfect, gentle features that seemed familiar to a male Veela's. Tears ran from his downcast eyes, missing in with the rain on his cheeks and falling onto his lap. The sixteen year old boy saw no need to go into the castle. The idea of facing his fellow Slytherin's and the irate looks from other houses seemed too much to bear. Just thinking about it made tension bubble inside of him, wishing he had something sharp as he pulled up his sleeve and looked at his scraped wrist, the veins teasing him. His grey eyes widened as he stared at the blue strings running around his wrist, pumping blood to his hands. He could hear the pumping in his temples, like the beating of his heart. Images of splattered blood and shredding skin overcame him, making his head dizzy. 'How long can I keep going like this?' He thought weakly, 'How long can I keep pretending?'  
  
It was then did Draco realise just how cold he was. It seemed everything was not really there; everything was anaesthetized to the point where Draco felt like he wasn't really there at all. Like he was watching his body act in a play of his miserable life.  
  
Getting up from the bench, Draco ran a hand through his sopping hair, trying to keep it out of his eyes as he looked up towards the castle. "Back to your stage, Draco." He said to himself as he pushed his hands into his side pockets and began walking towards the castle, his head tilting downwards so he would not see the lights glowing from the Gryffindor tower, taunting him.  
  
iYour head will collapse if there's nothing in it And you'll ask yourself "Where is my mind?"/i  
  
xXx  
  
Harry pushed his hand through his ruffled flop of hair as he stared down at the two-foot long sheet of parchment, his own writing scribbled in lines describing the mating habits of trolls. His green eyes were misty and red from being rubbed to stay open.  
  
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, who were arguing over a paragraph in Ron's essay. Hermione, of course, had already finished her essay long ago, and was even twice as long as Harry's and Ron's put together. Harry dimly wondered how Hermione could write so much on the sex life of trolls. His toned chest heaved as he breathed out a breath of air, finally deciding he had done enough. He had been working solidly for 5 hours, not including the large amount he had done the day before. "Ron, Hermione, I'm going back to the dorms." Hermione and Ron stopped arguing and looked at Harry, nodding in reply and instantly finishing the sentences they had cut short before. Chuckling, Harry got to his feet, placing his parchment into his book and shoving it into his bag which he swung over his shoulder and walked out of the large library. Stepping into the cold, empty corridor, Harry could hear the heavy downpour of rain, and wondered how long it had been raining. He had spent the entire day in the library, and when he had entered, the sky outside was completely clear.  
  
Slowly, Harry strolled towards the Gryffindor Common Room, his hands in his pockets as he savoured the rich smell of clean, brisk, rain trodden air. Harry had always loved he rain, despite the overwhelming amount his country of residence received. He never got tired of it. There was no one else out walking the corridors. It was late, and everyone was either in their common rooms or in the library finishing off weekend homework. However, Harry could see someone else as he turned a corner, on the other end of the corridor. The person was coming in through the Entrance Hall and Harry wondered what someone was doing out in the rain at this hour, especially since, from making out the outline and height of the person, they seemed to be a student. Slowly, Harry realised who it was at the two people walked towards each other. The shimmering, white blonde hair was unmistakable, and the small, undernourished body was familiar only to a Draco Malfoy. Harry inwardly groaned, and Draco Malfoy's stomach dropped. He couldn't walk straight past Potter without saying something.  
  
"Midnight stroll, Potter?" Draco said, his voice (to his disappointment) lacking its usual venom, and Harry caught on this as he looked at Draco warily.  
  
"What's it to you, Malfoy?" He replied, scowling as he eyed Draco's saturated clothes, "Midnight dip in the lake?"  
  
Draco sneered, running a white hand through his hair, flicking it back as tendrils bounced back in front of his dark eyes, making Harry feel more uncomfortable. Draco's sopping clothes clinged to his frail body, emphasising his skinny disposition. Harry eyed him quickly, wondering why Draco Malfoy was so thin all of a sudden. At the same time, both boys turned and continued walking; Draco breathed a shaky sigh, the tension in his body getting stronger as the lump in his throat stung, his heart feeling heavier and heavier as the distance between the two grew.  
  
As Draco descended the stone steps into the dungeons, he stopped. Drawing back his fist, Draco slammed it into the stone wall next to him, letting out a blood-curling yell as his fist impacted, blood dripping from his small knuckles as he crumpled to the ground, his knees slamming against the ground. Draco breathed violently, his shoulders contracting quickly as his breath came close to hyperventilation. His shaking hands came up and cradled his head as Draco tried to stop the spinning. 'How does he do this do me?' Draco thought viciously, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
xXx  
  
"Attention!" Snape's voice coldly called through the classroom. Silence reigned supreme.  
  
Snape's eyes peered slowly at every solitary student sitting rigid in their seats, as if daring one of them to say or do something. However, the sixth year class new better. Feeling satisfied at his grip of authority, Snape began pacing the room, one claw-like hand in his robe pocket, the other holding onto his wand. "You will brew the potion on page 793 in your text. I expect all of you to hand in your completed work on my desk by the end of the lesson." And with that, Snape turned his back and went back to his desk at the front of the classroom. The shuffle of chairs books and ingredients could be heard as everyone got to their feet, brought out their cauldrons and began working. Harry sighed, flipping to page 793 and skimming through the ingredients. With a groan, Harry exclaimed to Ron next to him, who was also reading the methods, "This is a complicated one. Why doesn't Snape ever give us /i potions?" Ron shook his head, scowling at the page. Before long, the whole class was brewing their potions, Neville Longbottom (who had partnered up with Hermione for his sake) managed to turn their potion pink with green polka-dots, to Hermione's passionate exasperation.  
  
"Longbottom! 50 points from Gryffindor." Snape's calculating voice exclaimed from behind, making Neville jump.  
  
On the other side of the classroom, Draco was busy making his potion. His hands were ice cold and beginning to ache. As he chopped up a spider's abdomen, Draco's stomach lurched. He hadn't eaten since the week before, and was getting weaker and weaker. Dark rings circled his misty grey eyes; nightmares had plagued him the night before, terrifying him to the point where he boycotted sleep. Draco dropped the spider's abdomen into the cauldron, making a silver vapour rise and hang in the air. He stepped back, coughing and running a hand through his silvery hair gracefully. He looked up, glancing around the classroom. He had been too frightened to, for fear of Potter seeing him. The night before still plagued him, and he had thought of little else.  
  
His eyes landed on Harry Potter, talking happily with Ron Weasley. A sense of burning jealousy crept up inside Draco, the tension he felt inside of him after his encounter with Potter the previous night returning, only worse. His head felt empty and light, pangs in his temples like bells making him grip the table. His ethereal face drained of blood, his hands sweating and a fever overwhelming him.  
  
i"Draco!...Stop screaming! Your cries for help won't stop me hurting you..."/i  
  
Draco gasped. The glass he was holding fell to the ground and shattered. Everyone in the class stopped what they were doing and looked at him. Draco stared straight ahead, his vision darkening and becoming blurry. 'Why can I hear that screaming? Why won't it stop?! Why...'  
  
i'Stop screaming!...Stop!...Stop!'/i  
  
'Why...'  
  
Suddenly everything went black. Draco collapsed to the ground. Vaguely, he could hear the sounds of gasps and cries and people running to his side, but these sounds were eclipsed by the sound of his own childish screams of torment as he slowly lost consciousness. 


	4. Your Head Will Collapse

Author's Note: ♥ Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you rock. I've decided to take your advice and will try and concentrate more on Harry, since I've been favouring Draco...I do that too much. I'm taking my time with the slash, since I already know how its going to go, but I'm going to start bringing in some slash fun soon enough. Fear not! I will bring you H/D goodness!   
  
- Flashback  
  
Enjoy...  
  
xXx  
  
"Mr Malfoy?...Mr Malfoy?"  
  
Draco groaned, moving his head in an attempt to get away from whoever was talking to him. The soft voice seemed amplified as the words crashed around in his head, his temples throbbing.  
  
'What...What happened?' He wondered, trying to determine where he was as his eyes slowly opened, finding himself in a dimly lit room. For a few moments, he had no idea where he was. The room did not look anything like a room at Malfoy Manor. His mother would never allow such a drably decorated room be present in her home. Squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again, he realised Madam Pomfrey was bustling in a cupboard next to his bed. Something clicked in his mind and he realised he was at school.  
  
'Better than at home.' Draco thought darkly as he settled back in his bed.  
  
"You're finally awake!" Madam Pomfrey said boisterously, turning around and looking at the thin boy. "Well, I must say you gave everyone quite a scare, Mr Malfoy. White as a sheet, you were, and barely breathing to boot!" Draco furrowed his light brow, trying to remember what had happened. All he could think of was brewing the cauldron in Potions. He had no idea what time or day it was.  
  
"What happened?" Draco finally asked, only then realising how dry his throat was, as the two words uttered were like razors in his throat. Madam Pomfrey handed him a glass of water and pursed her lips, recalling the event.  
  
"Well, as Professor Snape told me, you dropped a glass, then collapsed right there in his class. Said you were mumbling something about voices - then lost consciousness. White as a sheet, you were when Professor Snape and Potter brought you up to me. I daresay I was shocked to see how ill you looked! You should have come to see me if you were feeling –"  
  
"Potter?" Draco cut in, making her jump as she was silenced from her tangent. Draco stared at her, thinking he must have heard her incorrectly. Why would Harry Potter bring him to the Hospital Wing?  
  
"Yes, Potter!" Madam Pomfrey repeated, obviously annoyed. "Rather flustered, he was too...Tell me, Draco." Draco inwardly groaned. Being called 'Draco' by someone who always calls you 'Mr Malfoy' would not mean anything good.  
  
"...Have you been eating regularly? Your iron and energy levels have disintegrated astonishingly and I never remember you being quite so thin-"  
  
"Madam Pomfrey, I've been studying more than necessary and Quidditch training is very demanding. There is nothing wrong with me," Draco replied shortly, his mind still trying to grasp the notion that Harry had been worried about him. He wasn't sure if he should be ecstatic or terrified. His infatuation with Harry Potter had been fine, since he was keeping it to himself, and had no intention of letting anything slip. He had dreamt dream after dream of Harry touching his face gently and telling him he loved him too. However, he never took into consideration what would happen if Harry really did reciprocate those feelings.  
  
'I should have expected it,' Draco thought, a sly smile playing on his pale lips, the trademark arrogant smirk that was absent from Draco's features for so long finally returning, 'After all – look at me.' Draco chuckled, stretching back in his bed in a comfortable manner, realising Madam Pomfrey was still by his bed, and giving him a concerned look.  
  
"Well, you should get that smug look off your face," Draco's face fell. "You'll be staying here for the next two days, and it won't be pretty! We've got to get some strength into you." And with that, Madam Pomfrey picked up a pile of dirty sheets and bustled towards the door. As she reached the door, she stopped, turned and added, "Oh, your Father has been informed and will be here shortly."  
  
Draco's face went pale. He watched helplessly as Madam Pomfrey left him alone in the large, empty white room, a feeling of dread overcoming him. Fear loomed inside of Draco as he waited for the inevitable – Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey would have surely told his Father of Draco's lack of consideration with his physical health. This would just give his Father more ammunition. Once again, he would be a weakling in his Father's eyes. Draco knew it.  
  
Tentatively, Draco fiddled with his bed sheets, casting furtive glances towards the door leading into the corridor. His empty stomach, dormant since he collapsed, began aching. Cringing, Draco clutched his malnourished stomach, his shoulders curling inwards as he tried to stifle the pain that seemed to be growing and growing, to the point where it was blinding.  
  
'Yeah, I know this feeling...he's coming.'  
  
xXx  
  
"Harry? We have Herbology...We'll be late if we don't hurry."  
  
"Hm? Oh...Right. Yeah, I'm coming."  
  
Harry picked up his scattered books that he had dumped on his chair in the Great Hall. It was nearing the end of lunch, and Harry, Ron and Hermione had sat talking at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Around half of the other Gryffindor's were there also, talking about their morning or what they were going to do that evening. The loudest were Fred and George, at the end of the table, as they planned to let loose toads into the Hufflepuff Girls' Toilets. Harry chuckled at the idea, his green eyes darting over to the Slytherin Table. The majority of them were there, a large group sitting in silence, which comprised of Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and the rest of Draco's cult. They were all in shock from what had happened during Potions, none of them really sure what to do or say without the leader of their absolute dictatorship. Harry licked his lips, his mind recapping what had happened.  
  
Without knowing it, Harry had been staring at Draco. It first began as a glare that was intended to only last momentarily. However, the way in which Draco looked made his eyes stay where they were. He looked so weak. Harry remembered the way Draco's face was void of colour, his misty grey eyes open wide as he stared into his bubbling potion, his elegantly fingered hands grasping onto the table for dear life. It was like Draco was about to start screaming right there and then. For a split second, Harry made a move to go to him, but stopped. He couldn't do something like that; not to Malfoy! 'Why would I want to?' Harry thought, feigning disgust at the idea.  
  
And then it happened. Draco crumpled to the ground, his shoulders cringing inwards and his hands letting go of the table, his eyes squeezing shut as if someone were trying to hurt him, as if he were being attacked and he was trying to protect himself as he uttered hysterically, "Why won't they stop? Please...Go away...Leave me alone..." Draco repeated it over and over as everyone in the class crowded around, Pansy Parkinson screaming, Crabbe and Goyle staring dumb-founded, wondering if they should do something. Harry remembered. He, Hermione, Ron and some of the Gryffindors rushed over, trying to see what was happening. Snape pushed everyone aside, hissing at them to give him some space.  
  
Snape bent over Draco then asked him in a dark tone, "Mr Malfoy?"  
  
Draco continued to breathe heavily, his chest heaving up and down, as if he were having an asthma attack.  
  
"Please...Stop...Stop the voices...Leave me alone."  
  
Then he lost consciousness. Harry could still remember vividly the panic rising inside of him as Draco's eyes shut, his hands falling limp to the ground. Professor Snape conjured a stretcher then levitated Draco onto it, yelling at the class to move out of the way. He then turned and growled to Harry, "Bring him to Madam Pomfrey, now Potter. I need to get a potion that might help him."  
  
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, who nodded for him to go. Tensely, Harry pushed Draco's floating stretcher down the hallway that would lead to the Hospital Wing, his left hand holding onto its side to lead it in the right direction. This was strange, to say the least. Harry had never thought he would be in this position; helping Malfoy. He felt nervous and was filled with unease as he looked at the unconscious boy cautiously. Even though Draco was not conscious, Harry did not know what he should be thinking. He hated this boy. For the last four and a half years, he had made Harry's life a living nightmare! Any excuse to give Harry and his friends a hard time was embraced by this blonde haired Slytherin.  
  
Harry's hurried footsteps sounded against the stone floor as he pushed Draco's stretcher. Tremors of nervousness flitted through his stomach as he looked at the small boy. It was only now that Harry could get a proper look at him, since at school Harry could only send glances at him, hoping Draco would not see him.  
  
Draco looked half dead; his long hands thin, cheekbones heightened, chest and arms muscled, but with no body fat, his closed eyelids a slightly darker shade than the rest of his pale face, probably from lack of sleep. Harry wondered how long Draco would survive were he hit with a bad cold. He slowed down, radiant emerald eyes straying around Draco's face. Harry had always known Draco was good looking; a person with no eye sight would know that. However, Harry could see past that. Despite Draco's withered outer shell, Harry felt something drawing him closer to this sleeping boy. No, he wasn't a boy. A boy is far too trivial, too trifling. Draco was far more than that. How could such an angelic, ethereal form like this...  
  
"Suffer so much?" Harry mumbled, cutting into his own thoughts. It was only now did Harry wonder why Draco was in this position. 'He must have passed out from weakness.' He thought dimly, his eyes straying up to his perfect face, dark eyelashes resting on porcelain white cheeks, now even whiter. Even closed behind shut eyes, Harry could almost feel the calamity going on behind them. Doorways into his mind.  
  
'Why am I thinking this?!' Harry wondered, tearing his eyes away from Draco.  
  
Continuing on down the corridor, Harry became annoyed at himself. What would Ron and Hermione think if they knew he was...feeling that way. Harry had never thought himself gay; he had always fancied girls.  
  
'Do you really?' A voice entered his thoughts, making him uneasy. His mind was usually filled with chaotic, scattered thoughts that made him want to scream. However, his mind was presently empty; one solitary voice sighing sentences, words and whispers he did not want to hear.  
  
'Just...Get Malfoy to the Hospital Wing then I don't have to think about it again. Things will go back to the way they were before, and I'll be fine.' Harry began walking faster, coming to a stop outside the Hospital Wing, and knocked on the door. Distant clicking of shoes got closer and Madam Pomfrey opened the door, eyeing Harry curiously before looking down at Draco on the white stretcher.  
  
"Goodness! What happened here?" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, here eyes widening as she examined Draco.  
  
"Uh...I really don't know...One minute he was okay in Potions and the next...Well..." Harry suddenly felt a little flustered, feeling awkward trying to describe what was wrong with Draco when he really had no idea. He was worried; yes. All he really wanted was for Madam Pomfrey to make him better.  
  
'No! I want to leave!' Harry blushed, his left hand running through his flop of black hair nervously as he looked from Draco to the stone floor. Madam Pomfrey once again eyed him questioningly, before shaking her head and pulling the stretcher into the long white room. Harry stood at the doorway anxiously, wondering if he was okay to leave. However, Madam Pomfrey seemed too busy with Draco to notice. His eyes flashing around the room, Harry darted back to Potions, feeling shocked and more than a little disturbed by what had happened.  
  
"Harry! We're going to be late!" Hermione's shrilled voice rang in Harry's ears, making him jump from his seat, a few books falling to the ground. Harry stood there, shocked, before hurriedly gathering his books from the ground, trying not to look as jittery as he felt. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him curiously, not impressed that Harry seemed to be off dreaming and was going to make her late for a class.  
  
"Really Harry. Save your daydreams for the class."  
  
"I'm coming!" Harry called, standing back up and looking around the Hall surreptitiously, hoping no one had seen him before hurrying after Hermione. 'Get a grip, Harry,' He thought, almost pleadindly.  
  
xXx  
  
"Draco." Lucius Malfoy stood in the threshold of the Hospital Wing, his silvery white hair, not unlike his son's, falling neatly around his face; his cold eyes a veneer of seemingly endless blackness and hatred.  
  
Draco looked up to his Father reluctantly, his stomach dropping as his hopes of his Father forgetting to come fleeing from his mind. Fleeing. He really wouldn't mind doing that right about now. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey was keeping a close eye on him from the other room and would not be happy were he to suddenly make a run for it.  
  
Besides, Lucius Malfoy was blocking the door.  
  
"Father." Draco said softly in recognition and respect. His frightened, grey eyes followed his Father as he slowly sauntered over to his bed, taking a seat next to it.  
  
"I trust you are feeling better. I must say I am not entirely impressed you have not been taking...better care of yourself," Lucius breathed, placing his elbows on the arms of his chair and resting his left hand delicately over his right, his hands under his chin. "You were never a strong child. Always weak and brittle, even as a baby. I plan to quash that of you, believe you me," Lucius grinned maliciously, his shoulders shaking slightly as he laughed silently. Draco wanted to get up from the bed right there and then. He wanted to get out of the bed and run to someone; anyone. 'Harry.' In Draco's mixed up and chaotic mind, where everything was whirring around, blurring into each other and exploding like fireworks until there was nothing but calamity and anarchy, only one name surfaced. Only one name broke through the mayhem and seemed clear and lucid and...right. 'Harry...Oh God, Harry...I can't handle this...'  
  
At Draco's continuing silence, Lucius sat back in his chair, his right hand playing with his elegant wand which he slid out from his pocket. "While you're lying there with nothing of importance to say, I may as well tell you the news..." Draco looked at him curiously. Anything his Father had to tell him (and was obviously pleased about) would not be good news.  
  
"...As of today, I am a Professor at Hogwarts. I will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. How ironic." Lucius sneered, unaware of the horror suddenly surfacing in Draco's features. He had never cared to understand his son, and never would. "Well? For God's sake, you pathetic boy, say something!" Draco swallowed through a throat that felt like it had never tasted water. How could this happen? Hogwarts had been his sanctuary; his shelter; his...' Protection,' He thought numbly. Everything became clear. 'I no longer have that protection. I have no where to hide.'  
  
"That's...That's good Father. I'm sure you will do an excellent job.' His voice speaking words even he had not formulated before-hand, came out of his mouth, running off his lips like water, as if he were listening to someone else speak. Each word spoken was not expected by him, but more came naturally. It was custom and convention to speak this way to his Father, to the point where he did not even have to try. He was merely a puppet. A talking parrot that said what was expected of him.  
  
Nodding in agreement, Lucius stood from his seat, walking over to the door. Stopping right at the threshold, Lucius stood there, his back to his dazed son, and said, "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Draco." The door opened and closed as Draco's Father left the Infirmary, leaving a cold and unwelcome feeling in the air.  
  
Draco felt like his insides had disappeared. Like his head had emptied and was about to collapse. 'Any moment now...Any moment...My head will be completely empty and will surely collapse.'  
  
"...surely collapse..." 


	5. Origin of Love

Disclaimer: I'm using lyrics by Bright Eyes – 'An Attempt to Tip the Scales'. The lyrics were not written by me, to my utmost dismay. :p

Author's Note: ♥ Aww, my reviewer's are awesome.

Enjoy...

xXx

Harry yawned, rubbing his closed eyes with his index finger and thumb. It had been a long day, and a once dull ache in his temples had steadily increased to a consistent pain behind his eyes. Thrusting his bag onto the end of his bed, Harry shrugged off his robe cloak, loosened his tie, unbuttoned his school shirt and slipped them off his torso. The strenuous Quidditch practice he had just endured had taken its toll on his tense body, the muscles in his back, arms and legs tightened and stretched uncomfortably, like his limbs had been twisted in directions they were not created for. With a certain lack of refinement, Harry stumbled into the Dorm bathroom, the newly cleaned room smelling of detergent that reminded Harry of the muggle world. He loosened the black watch on his left wrist, noticing the time was 6:47pm. Excellent. He had a good three hours to himself before Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville would be retreating back to the dorms.

Looking up, Harry stared at his reflection in the clean mirror, observing the red bruise appearing on his left shoulder which he had newly received from a bludger that afternoon. 'Did I look like this when I first came here?' Harry wondered, trying to imagine himself as a first year, walking for the first time through the gargantuan doors to the Great Hall. Settling on the fact he had undeniably grown somewhat in those five or so years, Harry smiled at his reflection. Indeed his general features were still there; his lightning-bolt scar still extended down his pale forehead, swathed by his bangs of hair. Yes, that was another thing that had never changed. His black flop of messy hair, which his Aunt Petunia had been so eager to trim but never could, had stayed the same. Only now, he looked to have grown into it. When he was eleven years old, frail, short and skinny, his hair stood out ridiculously, making his head seem far too big for his body, like he was viable to tumble over at any given moment. However, now in his fifth year, as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, Harry looked at himself almost curiously. He was still thin, however he had accumulated slight muscles in the right places, a perk of being a Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for a number of years. His shoulders had broadened slightly, chest gaining slender muscles in place of skeletal bones. His skinny arms developing slim muscles in their uppers.

However, these slight muscles were only noticeable if one were to look very carefully at Harry, or if he did not have his shirt on. Otherwise, he was his normal self. Same penetrating emerald eyes, shaded by long black eyelashes; Same light skin, now slightly tanned with colour from the sun; He had just matured. Grown. Developed; His face showing that of a fifteen year old boy – beautifully sculptured and figured. His jaw-line accentuated elegantly from his neck, wisps of dark hair curling around the soft skin around his face in an untidy yet handsome way. Yes, he had definitely grown into his hair.

Smirking, Harry grabbed a towel from a cabinet, pulled down his pants and jumped into the shower.

xXx

The Infirmary was filled with inky blackness, a stark contrast to its usual pallid cleanliness. The moon hovered in the dark sky just overhead, blanketed in dusty clouds that threatened the creation of snow, and sprinkles of flickering stars. Gentle moon beams streams dully through the see-through curtains, providing the only light source in the large room. The glass windows were beginning to frost at the corners, stretching up as the night grew colder, as the warning of snow increased.

Draco lay on his side in bed, staring vacantly at the window, his left cheek resting against his cold hand on the pillow. His skin was paler that usual, the moonlight making it seem pasty and ashen. He was the only one in the Infirmary, and could hear the light snores of Madam Pomfrey in her bedroom next door.

Draco had not stopped thinking about his Fathers earlier visit. It hung in his mind like a cold shadow, never quite leaving his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to think of other things. He had even read ahead in his Potions book, but he found himself reading the same line over and over, and the words never even registering. His conversation kept replaying over and over in his mind like a broken record, gnawing away at him, making him feel even sicker than when he had first come into the Infirmary. He had not eaten in days. And the last time he had eaten, he had thrown the food up. Madam Pomfrey had tried to make him eat that evening, but Draco could not even bear to have the food in his mouth without gagging. All of Draco's refusals to eat had now begun to take obvious effects on his body. After his Father had left, Draco grasped his hands together, finding bruise marks when he let go. His skin was now extra-sensitive from his lack of calcium, and any pressure against his skin would be extremely painful and leave marks. His eye lids had darkened, along with the area around his eyes, which were dull and lifeless. His pale, almost skin-coloured lips were swollen from his pursing them together and running a gentle hand through his soft white hair would result in several hairs falling out.

Madam Pomfrey had him on a health revitalising potion, but its treatment, although effective, took time. It was the only thing Draco had been able to keep down, and that was only because Madam Pomfrey had almost forced it down his throat. The school nurse was becoming very worried for the Slytherin boy, who was becoming more and more waif-like each day.

Swallowing, Draco pulled himself into a sitting position, gripping tightly to the side of the bed with shaking, petite hands as he got to his feet, struggling to stay upright. 'How could that meeting with Father have such an effect on me?' He wondered, slowly sitting down on the soft windowsill, his long, thin white hands parting the curtains. His breath whooshed out like smoke, gathering on the freezing glass in front of his lips as he stared out onto the Hogwarts grounds, the black tree's of the Forbidden Forest shivering in movement from the wind. Draco drew a blanket from the nearby bed and pulled it around his shoulders, glad for the extra warmth in the cold air. Pulling his knees up to his chest, Draco leant against the window, his breath tumbling out in wisps of white air, plastering against the glass in circles, before dissolving and leaving the transparent window.

'As if they had never been touched,' Draco thought distantly, his large grey eyes fixated on the glass. Raising a slim, white hand, Draco placed it against the icy window, sliding it down and leaving the long tracks of his fingers in the frost. Staring out through the clear windows, Draco could see tiny white snow confetti falling from the gathering clouds until the glass misted and he could see nothing. 'I've touched nothing at all.' Draco shut his eyes, his shaky hands grasping hold of his shirt. Tomorrow the school would look like a winter wonderland. It didn't excite Draco as much as it would others. Draco had always disliked the snow. He had always been a fragile child and the extremely cold weather conditions had always been difficult for him to handle. His lack of body fat had left him with little to no resistance against the snow. Draco smirked as he recalled the previous winter. It was the first Christmas he had spent away from Malfoy Manor. Lucius gave Draco specific orders to stay at school and not return home to his mother. Draco could not say he was heartbroken over the idea; after all, spending Christmas alone was better than spending it with his Father. He had become used to his own company and not expecting the company of others. During that particular Christmas, however, Draco had enjoyed some much needed quiet-time, which he did not experience that often. The only other people at Hogwarts during those two weeks were a few Professors, the Hogwarts staff, the original bunkers of Hogwarts, and a handful of students who had opted for staying at school rather than going home. Crabbe and Goyle had considered staying at the news that Draco was, but Draco himself insisted (a little too enthusiastically) they go home.

However, despite his comfortable exterior with his circle of 'friends', coming to Hogwarts was a shock for him – the veneration he received from his fellow Slytherin's was completely new to Draco. He had spent his childhood alone, with only the company of adults, servants or the children of wizards who barely spoke a word. Lucius had boasted proudly that Malfoy's were held in high regard, and Draco never doubted it, seeing the way he was treated when other wizards were at the Manor. Draco had never expected he would be treated the same way by his peers. He found out swiftly that he was well-known among the circle of Slytherin families, and swiftly become used to it also. Throughout his years at Hogwarts, it had become custom for the Slytherin's to treat him as their superior, whether Draco liked it or not. Soon, he had grown to accept it. However the longer time he spent alone, the more he disliked being in the circle of his aristocracy. Those holidays he had spent in solitary made him realise how much he preferred being alone rather than being trailed by students he did not even like. So as this year had worn on, Draco had slowly broken free from the ties of his fellow Slytherins. He made sure it was not a sudden or terribly noticeable metamorphosis, rather gradually stepping away from the inner circle of the Slytherins. Bit by bit, Draco cast himself into the shadows, now only being recognised since he had distanced himself so greatly. The other Slytherins had not seen the process, just the outcome.

_Well, in the dark we're just air_

_So the house might dissolve_

_But once we're gone, who's gonna care_

_If we were ever here at all?_

Draco stared at his small handprints as they dissolved into nothing, his left hand coming up and feeling his right shoulder. Everyone was saying he was becoming more and more of a ghost these days, even his father (although lacking any feelings of concern), and Draco knew it aswell. It didn't bother him so much, however. Infact, it gave him a slight thrill to feel the sensation of losing flesh. It was his disappearing act, and Draco Malfoy did not like the sound of a reappearing act one bit.

xXx

"Draco?" A tentative voice asked over the slight creaking of a door.

"Since when did you call me that, Potter?" Came the short, yet bored reply, it's trademark droll making Harry roll his eyes and shut the door behind him.

"Good. You're still awake, I see...Why are you sitting at the window?" Harry asked, sitting down on top of Draco's empty bed. Draco turned and looked at the dark haired boy, his long fingers drumming on the arm rests of his seat.

"I like the sky at the moment." He said with a slight shrug, ignoring the strange look he was receiving from Harry. "So. What do I owe this visit?" He asked, his voice, not vindictive or callous, but rather curious.

Harry shrugged, leaning back on the bed and resting his hands behind him, propping himself up. "Snape has been asking for you. You had a nasty fall the other day."

Draco chuckled, "I never do things half-arsed."

Harry had to agree with the boy there. There was a silence, not uncomfortable or nervous, but rather a silence that followed what had been said and was waiting for what was to come next. They sat there in the Infirmary, just...being there.

"My Father is at Hogwarts." Draco suddenly said, rubbing his elegant jawline with his right hand.

"I noticed." Harry said shortly, feeling a little uneasy talking about Lucius Malfoy, let alone to his own son. Besides, Harry could have always sworn Draco would be happy about his father being at Hogwarts, he had someone else to help him bully around people, right?

Blinking, Draco stared back out the window, his eyes becoming dull and lifeless as if being switched off. He hated this feeling; like he was just an empty shell, void of feelings and emotions and anything of substance. "It feels like I'm tying an apple to my head and handing him a bag of arrows and a blindfold." He said in a monotone voice, his stomach contracting, his ribs curling in, feeling like they would break from the weight of it all.

"I..." Harry started unsure of how to continue. What was he meant to say to that? He was finding out Draco Malfoy did not hold the esteem he had made out he held for his father.

"I feel like that sometimes..." Harry suddenly muttered.

Draco scoffed. "Okay, Potter." He said, bitterly.

"Are you familiar with Plato's theory of the origin of love?" Harry suddenly blurted out. Sitting back, he clasped his hands together and stared at the white floor infront of him. "Plato theorized that once, there were three sexes. Children of the sun, children of the moon, and children of the earth. Each individual were attached to another by their backs and they were whole. So they all had four hands, four feet and one head, with two faces facing opposite directions.

"Zeus got worried, thinking that they were getting too strong and defiant, so he sent down firebolts and separated them. Apollo sealed up a wound and brought it round to our stomaches, now being our bellybuttons. And so all these people were scattered and they all lost their other halves they had once been attached to, therefore being... just a part of themselves. Spending the rest of their lives roaming the earth in search of their other half." Harry swallowed, "That's how I feel. Like...I'm only part of myself, left behind by something better..."

Shaking himself, he quickly said, "Sorry...Kindof lost track of things there, didn't I?" He asked, still looking at the ground.

Draco was staring at him, his eyes no longer empty or bare, but rather confused. Opening his mouth, he said softly, "And making love is like trying to pull yourself back together. Finding that other part of yourself."

Harry blinked and nodded slowly, looking back to the ground. A few moments passed as the boys merely sat there, feeling not so alien to eachother.

Standing, Harry ran a hand through his messy hair and turned, walking to the door of the Hospital Wing. "Snape said he wants you to read the rest of the chapter in the Potions book." He said before shutting the door behind him and walking back to his dorm, feeling uneasy. Had that all really happened? He never imagined having a conversation with Draco Malfoy, let alone a civil one. He had said things even himself didn't know he was feeling. He spoke with that blonde-haired Slytherin as if he were talking to Ron or Hermione. Sure, he had been afraid of the boy jeering him, but at the time, it didn't matter. All that mattered was releasing those words he had been pining away for so long until they had been closed behind a door deep inside of himself, long forgotten. However now that was replaced by something else, something he couldn't quite manifest the meaning of. Something comforting and warm and soothing. 'So...why is it leaving me as I walk further away from the Hospital Wing?' Harry wondered, his stomach tightening painfully. 'No...'

xXx

Draco watched the door close, the footsteps echoing down the hall, becoming gentler and gentler until they were gone. His silver eyes moved to his long fingers, drumming on the chair rest. His coral lips, once straight and lazily sitting in an emotionless position on his perfect face, quirked into a slight smile as he stood slowly, walked to his bed and slid in, pulling the covers to his shoulders.

xXx

Jen: Arg, that took me forever. So sorry. ; But incase you didn't know, I got inspiration for this chappie from Hedwig and the Angry Inch! Best movie. There's a song on it called 'Origin of Love' and I'm going to post the lyrics.

**Origin of Love**

**When the earth was still flat,  
And the clouds made of fire,  
And mountains stretched up to the sky,  
Sometimes higher,  
Folks roamed the earth  
Like big rolling kegs.  
They had two sets of arms.  
They had two sets of legs.  
They had two faces peering  
Out of one giant head  
So they could watch all around them  
As they talked; while they read.  
And they never knew nothing of love.  
It was before the origin of love.**

The origin of love

And there were three sexes then,  
One that looked like two men  
Glued up back to back,  
Called the children of the sun.  
And similar in shape and girth  
Were the children of the earth.  
They looked like two girls  
Rolled up in one.  
And the children of the moon  
Were like a fork shoved on a spoon.  
They were part sun, part earth  
Part daughter, part son.

The origin of love

Now the gods grew quite scared  
Of our strength and defiance  
And Thor said,  
"I'm gonna kill them all  
With my hammer,  
Like I killed the giants."  
And Zeus said, "No,  
You better let me  
Use my lightening, like scissors,  
Like I cut the legs off the whales  
And dinosaurs into lizards."  
Then he grabbed up some bolts  
And he let out a laugh,  
Said, "I'll split them right down the middle.  
Gonna cut them right up in half."  
And then storm clouds gathered above  
Into great balls of fire

And then fire shot down  
From the sky in bolts  
Like shining blades  
Of a knife.  
And it ripped  
Right through the flesh  
Of the children of the sun  
And the moon  
And the earth.  
And some Indian god  
Sewed the wound up into a hole,  
Pulled it round to our belly  
To remind us of the price we pay.  
And Osiris and the gods of the Nile  
Gathered up a big storm  
To blow a hurricane,  
To scatter us away,  
In a flood of wind and rain,  
And a sea of tidal waves,  
To wash us all away,  
And if we don't behave  
They'll cut us down again  
And we'll be hopping round on one foot  
And looking through one eye.

Last time I saw you  
We had just split in two.  
You were looking at me.  
I was looking at you.  
You had a way so familiar,  
But I could not recognize,  
Cause you had blood on your face;  
I had blood in my eyes.  
But I could swear by your expression  
That the pain down in your soul  
Was the same as the one down in mine.  
That's the pain,  
Cuts a straight line  
Down through the heart;  
We called it love.  
So we wrapped our arms around each other,  
Trying to shove ourselves back together.  
We were making love,  
Making love.  
It was a cold dark evening,  
Such a long time ago,  
When by the mighty hand of Jove,  
It was the sad story  
How we became  
Lonely two-legged creatures,  
It's the story of  
The origin of love.  
That's the origin of love.


End file.
